


because it's 4 o'clock in the morning

by undeliveredtruth



Series: svt requests & randoms [16]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Best Friends, Comfort, Dirty Talk, Idol Verse, If you read the second chapter:, M/M, Phone Sex, Platonic Cuddling, to Lovers too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 09:21:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20151301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undeliveredtruth/pseuds/undeliveredtruth
Summary: 5 times Seungcheol orbits around Wonwoo.And one time... it's just a bit different.[This fic is translated in Korean byelnino_agostohere!]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 한국어 available: [[번역] 지금은 새벽 네 시니까](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20385745) by [elnino_agosto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elnino_agosto/pseuds/elnino_agosto)

> Yay Woncheol! Thank you so much for the request. <3 If y'all want to read the platonic part, read only the first chapter; the second chapter is my self-indulgence haha. Hope you enjoy it! <3
> 
> Because it's already Cheol's birthday yay happy birthday to our leader! <3 <3
> 
> (Title is from Katie's Thinkin Bout You, which is a really good song!

There's not much that goes through Seungcheol's head whenever they land somewhere new. New or old, it's all pretty much the same.

Make sure everyone has their things, their passports, that all their managers are with them, that all the kids are okay, make sure no fans mob them right when they exit the arrival doors. Put one foot in front of the other, his Airpods in and no music coming out of them. He couldn't listen to music, in case he has to hear something important.

One foot in front of the other. Left, right, left, right, left, _left,_ Seungcheol stumbles a little, catches himself.

He's tired. He didn't sleep much on the flight, courtesy of Seokmin, who really needed to talk to him. Not courtesy of. For Seokmin, because he's even more exhausted than Seungcheol, jumping between his musical, their schedules wherever they are.

It's all autopilot until they reach their hotel room, and he keeps the door open to their room for Wonwoo. Wonwoo.

Who's been quiet for so long, Seungcheol knows something's wrong.

Right when he drops his bags, he takes Wonwoo's wrists in his hands.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

It's the automatic answer; nothing's ever wrong with Wonwoo.

Until it is, and Wonwoo sneaks into his bed at night, tears he won't shed lodged in his heart, and admits that it's not good-_he's not good._ Not by saying it, but by how his hand fists in Seungcheol's shirt, begging for _something_ to be different, for Seungcheol to help say something or do something to put him back in his skin.

Wonwoo is shy. Wonwoo is closed off while being incredibly funny and confident at the same time. Wonwoo struggles. A lot. With associating himself with the body he's inhabiting, creating that connection between what he thinks, what he does, and who he is. Wonwoo who games and reads because that means inhabiting an easy world that's not this one, with the pressures that come along with it.

But he's learned to do it over time. To figure out how to connect his mind to his expression, to his lyrics, to his body, creating a mind flow that allows him to express himself and open himself up to the world and their fans. Wonwoo's gotten healthier, in tune with himself, truly confident in the way that comes when you've been insecure, and been mean, and defensive, and have come to bloom into the best version of yourself.

But Seungcheol hasn't been able to give up long habits that easily. Hovering over Wonwoo, helping catch him when he falls, pushing him back up. Seungcheol... finds himself sometimes having tunnel vision to Wonwoo, interpreting the slightest drop in the corner to his lips.

Wonwoo hugs him. That's a new development. He'd never have done that by himself before, but him changing means he's also changing how he reaches out to Seungcheol. Him being able to open himself up... changes things.

Seungcheol hugs him back, wraps his arms around his body. Wonwoo's slightly taller than him, so that means it's Seungcheol who has to bury his head in his shoulder.

It's Wonwoo who lets go though, who goes to the bathroom to get ready for bed. They have two beds. Seungcheol slips into the one next to the wall, takes his make-up off and changes, turns the lamp on and the lights off.

They won't use the second, Seungcheol can tell. Wonwoo comes out of the bathroom, pulls the covers off from Seungcheol and slips in next to him, his back to Seungcheol.

Seungcheol's tired, and so is Wonwoo. So he puts his arm around Wonwoo's waist, the other under his head. Pulls Wonwoo to his body, sneaks his cold feet under Wonwoo's, feels him twitch, hiss at the temperature shock, but settling back down. Wonwoo puts his hand on Seungcheol's, tracing lines on his forearm. He's too tired to sleep, and the silence is comfortable, Wonwoo's touches slow, lax.

Seungcheol thinks of Wonwoo a lot. He... really does. It's hard to say how. He just does. Feels the need to touch him sometimes, fiddle with his stage costumes, help him put things on, take them off. Always sees when he struggles, be it an outfit, be it something more. 

Wonwoo's touches on his hand stop. He sighs, takes a breath through his nose and tucks himself better into Seungcheol, intertwining his fingers with the backs of Seungcheol's on his stomach. Even if it's uncomfortable, Seungcheol turns his wrist to intertwine them properly, squeeze Wonwoo's hand.

It's alright. It's all fine. Seungcheol swallows his questions and worry and falls asleep, lulled by Wonwoo's breathing.

\---

Seungcheol's favorite thing that Wonwoo does is a simple one.

Seungcheol will be at the company sometimes, staying late because of meetings, writing songs with Jihoon, whatever, and he will pass by the practice rooms which are only slightly out of the way and hear humming, faint guitar sounds.

He would open the door carefully, and maybe Wonwoo would see him, maybe he would not. Sometimes he has headphones in his ears and is turned away from the door and the mirror, too focused on what he's doing. On strumming the chords to the guitar on his lap or over his neck, humming over a song in his head or in his headphones. Focused.

Seungcheol likes Wonwoo's voice. It's too deep for him to be stable in high notes, but no ordinary mortals can have everything. It would be unfair.

Wonwoo startles when Seungcheol walks in the room, dropping down across from him.

"What?"

"Nothing," Seungcheol hums. "Sing."

He does sing. Seungcheol lays down on the floor of the practice room, listens to his strumming, his even lower, whispered voice until he gets some confidence back and sings. Seungcheol closes his eyes, really tired, but Wonwoo's voice cracks.

He stifles back a laugh, and Wonwoo stops; when Seungcheol opens his eyes, he's blushing, embarrassed.

"Why'd you stop? I liked it."

Wonwoo hesitantly starts again; it's not a song Seungcheol knows, and it seems like Wonwoo's not reading from anything.

It must be his song.

It's actually really good; the lyrics are sloppy, kind of unfinished, but honest anyway. Seungcheol understands, in Wonwoo's low tone, that he's talking about love, and the many forms it can take.

And then his voice cracks again.

Seungcheol stands up, walks out of the practice room without a word and heads to the kitchen.

When he comes back, Wonwoo's just browsing through his phone, the guitar forgotten next to him. Seungcheol hands him the tea and the water, not too cold but not too warm, and sits back down on the practice room floor, watches Wonwoo drink it.

"You should give that to Jihoon."

"You think?"

"Yeah. It's actually really good."

"Hmm. I might then."

\---

It's Seungcheol's fault, really. He had been holding on to the banana milk with one hand and then his phone and his mic pack in the other and then Wonwoo was just... right there and he tripped and...

It's really Seungcheol's fault Wonwoo's shirt is dripping yellow banana milk but he also can't... stop snickering.

It's kind of funny. His startled expression is kind of funny, and the whole situation...

It's surely not funny to the stylists, who really hate Seungcheol right now. For good reason, because they don't have any other outfits with them and the stage is in 10 minutes and stylist-noona's enthusiastic waving around of the shirt while another stylist-noona points a hairdryer at it is not helping.

"He can take my shirt," Seungcheol volunteers, already dropping the blazer from his shoulders. "My blazer's much less low-cut."

"Okay," Wonwoo's stylist-noona doesn't hesitate for a second, going to find some of the make-up still needed for Wonwoo. That's why they're so good at what they do; they don't hesitate for one second whenever something happens.

So Seungcheol slips the shirt from his shoulders, puts it on a shirtless Wonwoo and buttons it up, button by button.

"Will you be okay?" Wonwoo asks, and Seungcheol nods.

"Yeah," he chirps, doing up the last of the buttons. And then unbuttoning two of them, because... yeah. "My fans will have a field day," he grins, patting Wonwoo's shoulder, fixing his collar. Running a few strands of his hair through his fingers because Seungcheol disturbed them while helping him with the shirt.

"Done," he pats Wonwoo's chest, reaching out to ruffle a hand through his hair, like he always does.

Oh... _Whoops._

"Choi Seungcheol!" He hears from his left, a thunderous roar that tells Seungcheol it is time to _run._

And run far, _far_ away.

"Quick, hyung. Might get away in time," Wonwoo grins at him, and Seungcheol grins in return.

\---

Seungcheol is starving. He hasn't had food in what seems like years, and he can't wait to get home and put ramen on the stove and finally eat something, doesn't matter what.

Maybe not even the stove; he'll just put it in the microwave and pray it cooks.

Whatever. He'll eat it dry. It doesn't matter, if it's hot enough to put some of the warmth back in his bones.

While he painstakingly waits for it to cook, right before he takes it out of the microwave, he sees Wonwoo walk into the kitchen, wearing an oversized sweater, the sleeves falling past his fingers. It's cold in the dorm but not because of lack of trying; their heater has been acting up for the past week, and nobody came by to fix it yet. Wonwoo's always hit the hardest cause he gets cold easily.

He doesn't say anything, gets water from their non-fridge supply and sits down at the table. He's going to keep Seungcheol company, that he can tell, so Seungcheol takes the steaming ramen out of the microwave and quickly puts it on the table, almost burning his fingers.

Wonwoo doesn't even blink. Seungcheol pushes the ramen to him and wordlessly goes back to their supply to pick up another bowl.

\---

When Seungcheol wakes up from his nap, it’s 4 AM and Wonwoo’s not back.

He checks the living room, although he wasn’t gaming and Wonwoo promised to wake him up and come to his own bed. Expectedly, there’s no one there, the living room dark and empty.

So Seungcheol picks up his phone and dials Wonwoo’s number. He promised Seungcheol he wouldn’t stay up all night working, especially since they have a schedule tomorrow and not a free day.

But nobody picks up. Seungcheol tries again, and again, and again, and still nothing.

Wonwoo’s probably fine. He’s just wearing his headphones and he can’t hear his phone.

He’s fine, he’s fine, Seungcheol repeats like a mantra in his head, even though traitorous thoughts sneak their way in. What if fans found him and something weird happened? What if he was tired and he fell and he hit his head or something? What if someone creepy found him?

Seungcheol shakes his head to take them away, because he’s fine.

He still hurries to put his shoes on, slap a mask and a hat on while he runs downstairs and the few blocks to their company building. There are no fans waiting, so Seungcheol is thankful.

He runs up the stairs to the studio he and the rest of the rap team uses when they write, knowing his way by heart. Putting the code in by heart too, a weight feeling like it falls from his shoulders when he sees Wonwoo’s body slumped in the chair.

He’s breathing. Thank god.

Seungcheol shakes his shoulder gently, whispering his name, but Wonwoo only groans, turns his head to Seungcheol.

“Wonwoo-yah. Wake up. Wake up.”

Wonwoo does, but his open eyes seem like they’re looking through Seungcheol, hazy and barely awake.

He won’t walk home, that Seungcheol knows. He hates taking taxis because the alleyways to their building are impossible to get around, and it’s not like they have space to sleep here.

“Wonwoo-yah. Wake up for a bit. I’ll carry you home, okay?”

Wonwoo takes a deep breath, nods and closes his eyes again, and Seungcheol taps his shoulder. “Come on. Get up.”

When Seungcheol pulls at his hand, he looks more awake, enough to get up and fall, quite dramatically, on Seungcheol, wrapping his arms around his neck.

Seungcheol only chuckles at the added weight of Wonwoo on him, turning around so Wonwoo’s laying on his back, his elbows locking on his chest. Seungcheol hikes him up on his back, grabs his thighs and feels as Wonwoo slumps on him, his cheek resting on Seungcheol’s head.

He’s light. He’s always been way too light, always needs to put on weight by Seungcheol’s standards, and Seungcheol’s been working out more, so it’s quite alright. Seungcheol hears the click of the lock of the room behind him and heads to the elevator, because he’s not taking the stairs.

There’s a little bit of a pleasure squishing Wonwoo against the wall of the elevator, resting against him and hearing him groan. At least he’s slightly awake and able to distribute his weight on his arms so Seungcheol doesn’t topple forward on the hilly way home.

Wonwoo’s light, but he’s also a grown man, and Seungcheol’s skipping working out tomorrow.

Or today more like, remembering how late it is. The streets are empty, just the faint sound of cars on the main street breaking the silence, so Seungcheol gets lost in his thoughts, forgetting the weight on his back.

He won’t berate Wonwoo. He just wants to do a good job on this album, they all do, so he won’t be a hypocrite and chew him out for working hard.

He just wishes Wonwoo would reach out more often, and honestly reach out. He very often hides behind his jokes and his playful attitude, his flirty remarks, that Seungcheol has found it harder and harder to notice when he’s having a hard time.

Seungcheol would like to think he’s still Wonwoo’s best friend. The one he comes to with his issues and his happiness alike, the one he trusts the most. He knows Wonwoo has Soonyoung and Jeonghan and other people to talk to, but still...

He’d like to think he’s still special to Wonwoo.

The elevator is slow, one of the lights flickering. Wonwoo shifts on his back, his hot breathing down the back of Seungcheol’s neck raising goosebumps.

Putting in the code means almost dropping Wonwoo, but he does it anyway in the entryway, taking Wonwoo’s shoes off. Wonwoo falls to the floor, and now Seungcheol knows he’s just being dramatic.

But when he makes grabby hands at Seungcheol, his eyes cutely scrunched closed, what can Seungcheol say? No?

He picks Wonwoo up bridal style this time, his face burying in Seungcheol’s chest and his arms wrapping around his back.

And then he carries him over the threshold of their room, dropping him down on his bed. He turns around, ready to go to his own bed, when he feels the fingers around his wrist tugging him back.

When he turns around, Wonwoo’s eyes are wide open.

_He..._

Wordlessly, Seungcheol accepts the pull on his hand until he tumbles into Wonwoo’s bed, facing him. Except Wonwoo’s not happy, turning him around with a hand on his waist until Seungcheol’s back is tucked tight, too tight to his chest.

“You were awake?” Seungcheol whispers, sneaking a hand behind himself to reach into Wonwoo’s hair, tucking his lips to the back of his neck.

“Mhm,” he answers, the vibrations traveling down Seungcheol’s spine, raising goosebumps where Wonwoo’s lips touch his skin. “But you were so cute. Carrying me, all strong, dependable leader.”

Seungcheol feels his cheeks light on fire, unable to respond. Wonwoo’s always... like this. Doesn’t hold back the things he wants to say. Makes Seungcheol go all... mushy, confused, his words twirling through his head, rendering him speechless.

“Hmm,” he settles to saying, wraps his hands around Wonwoo’s on his chest and feels Wonwoo chuckle, let out a heavy breath. Seungcheol feels his heartbeat time with the pulse on Wonwoo’s wrist and convinces himself to go to sleep.

Schedule tomorrow; they need all the sleep he can get.


	2. Chapter 2

Seungcheol wakes up and it’s still the middle of the night. Why he did is a mystery; he wasn’t having a dream, there was no noise, he doesn’t need water, his bladder’s not bursting.

Maybe a little. Maybe it’s that.

So he goes to the bathroom, relieves himself and washes his hands, but when he gets back into bed, he can’t fall back asleep anyway.

So he picks up his phone, and sees that there’s a text from Wonwoo that came just five minutes before. It’s 4 AM for him, but it’s only 2 AM for Wonwoo.

He’s in another country, filming a pilot of a variety show and he should return tomorrow. Seungcheol hopes everything’s fine, opening his phone quickly and waiting until the texts load.

_‘Hyung... are u awake?’_ The text says, and Seungcheol crooks his eyebrow. Wonwoo never texts like this. His grammar’s always perfect.

_‘Yeah, why?’_ He texts back, holding his phone above his head. The three dots appear instantly.

_‘Hmm... jus. Can I call u?’_

Seungcheol’s confused, but he would never say no if Wonwoo needs him. He’s just going to have to be quiet so he doesn’t wake the other members up.

Wonwoo’s name and his ridiculous photo in Seungcheol’s phone appear on his screen, but his phone’s not on silent, so Seungcheol quickly answers it, puts it next to his ear and on the pillow.

“Hi, Wonwoo-ya. What’s up?”

_“Cheol-hyung...”_ he says, his voice low and heavy, almost... _”I miss you.”_

Seungcheol almost chokes, quickly picking himself up. “I miss you too. What’s up. Are you okay?”

_”Yeah. I just had something to drink, and... wanted to talk to you.”_

Wonwoo is never an easy drunk. He just gets cheerier, louder, more talkative, doesn’t need much prompting to do whatever things pass through his head. He’s an... uninhibited tipsy person, because he never gets drunk.

Seungcheol feels his ears are on fire, so he scrambles for his headphones on his desk, plugs them in and connects them to his phone, Wonwoo’s heavy breathing filtering through them, louder and clearer, gets him... some kind of way.

“Are you in your hotel room?”

_”Yeah. I’m by myself. Dongshin-hyung was my roommate, but he told me he’s not coming back tonight, so...”_

At least he’s safe. Seungcheol breathes out in relief.

_”What are you doing now?”_ Wonwoo asks, his voice just as low, as whispered. Wonwoo’s drawl in his ears, imagining him on his bed, even if thousands of kilometers away, it draws goosebumps on Seungcheol’s arms.

”I’m in our room. Was sleeping.”

_”Hmm...”_ he whispers, unusually loud, the sound filtering clearly through Seungcheol’s headphones. _Oh god._ _”Hyung... are you sleeping naked again?”_

Now Seungcheol chokes, subtle. “No. I’m wearing underwear,” he rushes out, kind of taken aback.

_”Mmm... I’m not.”_

Oh god, _holy fuck._ Is Wonwoo...

“Wonwoo-ya...” Seungcheol warns, but it’s weak. His own voice is weak, affected.

_”It’s so hot in here. You’d like it here though. The view from our hotel room is nice,”_ he drawls out, getting back to familiar territory, where Seungcheol doesn’t feel like he’s swimming in deep waters. But before he can answer, Wonwoo takes another breath, speaks again.

_”You’d still cuddle me, right? I wanna cuddle you right now. Would you let me?”_

Seungcheol mumbles a surprised noise, but it doesn’t stop Wonwoo. _Oh god._

_”Wanna feel your back on my chest, hyung, my arm around your waist. You like me doing that, right? You always tuck my head on your neck, grab my hair.”_

If only Wonwoo was wrong. If only what he’s hinting at would be wrong, if only Seungcheol doesn’t feel the stirring in his stomach, the whisper of Wonwoo’s name that’s just too loud to hide from him.

Seungcheol is fucked. He’s so fucked.

_”Do you like your neck kissed? I’d bet you’d like me doing that. I’d like to do that too. Whenever you wear chokers on stage...”_ He stops, rasping out a distressed noise. _”When we were filming the video and you ripped that thing off your neck, hyung... I wanted to press you against a wall and bite hickeys in your skin so bad, feel you tremble against me.”_

Seungcheol moans, too gone. That’s it. Wonwoo’s found him, found the things he thought he could keep hidden from him.

_”Hyung... are you touching yourself? I am. God, you’re so hot, I wish you were here so bad.”_

Seungcheol moans out Wonwoo’s name, sneaking a hand under the blankets and teasing it over his underwear, over his hardening cock. He’s so sensitive, so turned on despite how Wonwoo’s barely even started, so he can’t hold back from pulling his underwear to his thighs, grasping the base of his cock.

_”Hyung... talk to me, talk to me, hyung...”_ Wonwoo whispers, his tone higher, his breathing rushed. Seungcheol can imagine him, naked under his blankets, a blush high on his cheeks, touching himself, turned on just from saying these things to Seungcheol.

“What... what do you want me to say, Wonwoo?”

_”Anything. Just tell me what you’re thinking of.”_

“Thinking of you,” he rushes out before even thinking twice, hearing Wonwoo’s borderline desperate moan. “You... touching yourself. I’ve... I’ve seen you do that before,” he admits, his deepest secret unearthed.

_”You did?”_

“Yeah. You thought I was sleeping, I think, but... you were so loud. I watched you move your hand under the blankets, watched you moan and bite your lip when you came. It...”

_”Did it turn you on? Did you like it?”_

“It did. It did so bad, your sounds...”

_”I wanted you to hear me, hyung. Was hoping you’d join me.”_

Fuck. _Fuck._ The thought had passed through Seungcheol’s mind, deep, forbidden. What if... what if he jumped up from his bed, replaced Wonwoo’s hand with his, with his mouth, drew those sounds from him _himself._

_”Kept thinking how you might punish me. Maybe you’d turn me around, press me in the mattress, give it to me good."_

Seungcheol’s cock twitches, precum dripping and making the slide of his hand easier. Fucking Wonwoo. _Goddamn._

_”But then I realized how soft you are, hyung. You’d make love to me, wouldn’t you? You’d take care of me, make sure I am ready for you, slide into me slow, nice, romance me, wouldn’t you?”_

Seungcheol whimpers. He _whimpers,_ Wonwoo’s words, his low chuckle, too much for him.

_”Or maybe you’d like it the other way around too? On top of me, riding me slow, feeling me deep inside you? I’d like to see that, hyung. Like to see those thighs strain on top of me, see you bounce on my cock.”_

_Fuck._ How can he just say things like that? Seungcheol is so close to coming he feels like he’s going to burst, moaning way too loud for 4 AM and a full dorm.

“Wonwoo...” he moans, letting him know he’s close, he’s...

_”Me too, me too, Cheol, I’m... fuck,”_ he chokes out, his moans way too similar to that night, raspy and loud, as he comes.

He can see him. He can see Wonwoo behind his closed eyelids, can see him lounging on his bed, come on his stomach and his hand tugging lazily at his softening cock, letting out dirty moans in his microphone because he’s too sensitive just for Seungcheol, just for him to hear.

Seungcheol comes harder than he ever has, making a mess of his hand and his blanket, his groan cut-off on the phone.

“Goddamn, Wonwoo,” he whispers, hears his deep chuckle. He doesn’t feel bad at all, Seungcheol can tell.

The urge to touch him, to hold him close and hear that chuckle in his ear in real life, pinch Wonwoo and see his cocky smile is so strong Seungcheol sighs, curls in on himself. He’s never wanted something this bad, never felt this strong of a _need_ to hold Wonwoo, just _feel_ him.

It’s so strong it takes him aback, whimpering a low noise to Wonwoo on the phone.

_”What’s up?”_

“Really fucking wish you were here right now,” he admits quickly, hears Wonwoo sigh too on the other line.

_”Tomorrow, yeah?”_

“Yeah,” Seungcheol whispers, low.

_”You’re not going to pretend this didn’t happen, right?”_

“I’m not an idiot. I guess I’ve pined enough without knowing.”

_”It honestly took you a while, hyung. Was starting to think I’d have to wait until we’re old and grey.”_

“Hey. Sudden phone sex is not the best way to make someone realize their feelings for their best friend in though,” he chastizes Wonwoo, hears him chuckle. That laugh. It’s going to be Seungcheol’s end. “Were you even drunk?”

_”I’ve had a few drinks, yeah. Liquid courage. Is it fair to say I thought you would be less tempted to run away if I did it over the phone and when I was far away?”_

“A warning would’ve been nice anyway,” Seungcheol hums.

_”Pff, sure. Hey, Cheol-ah, just so you know, I called you because I have the biggest hard-on in the universe for you and I really miss you, so just so you know, I’m gonna touch myself now. Sure.”_

“Sounds great.”

_”Well then, just as a warning, when I see you tomorrow, I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t sit down for two days. Sound fair?”_

Seungcheol splutters, choking on air.

_”Looks like it’s a plan. Goodnight then, see you tomorrow.”_

Before Seungcheol can say anything in protest, Wonwoo _hangs up._ Seungcheol huffs his protest to the empty night and gets up.

His blanket is gross, sticky with come and sweat, and so is Seungcheol. Looks like it’s 4 AM laundry and shower time, Seungcheol thinks as he painstakingly gets up and peels his sheets off the bed, putting his underwear on.

Tomorrow he’s really going to make Wonwoo pay for this.

But he’s going to kiss him first. Yeah. That first.


End file.
